Driven by more than himself

Oronde Crenshaw is far from a superhero, but he's often treated like one.

Wednesday afternoons, Crenshaw coaches youth flag football at Costa Mesa High School. His group of 5- and 6-year-olds looks up in awe when he speaks to them.

“How many push-ups do you guys want to see me do?” Crenshaw asks his miniature gladiators.

The answer is 4 million.

“I don't think I can do that many, but I'll try.”

By push-up No. 20, the little men are satisfied. Crenshaw has once again brought peace to those around him.

Sometimes, Crenshaw's life feels like 4 million push-ups. Coaching is a small piece of his everlasting pie.

The balancing act Crenshaw performs, between family, school and football, might eventually break the 16-year-old.

He's just hoping his big break happens first.

Crenshaw is named after his father. His family calls him Junior. But his mindset is anything but juvenile.

His priority list, for example, is a point of contention. His family wants Crenshaw to pour his energy into himself, focusing on school and football. His dreams of playing college football, and their dreams of supporting him from the stands, ride on his academic and athletic success.

But Crenshaw has different ideas. He wants to think about family, a crew that's bound by genetics and love and complicated parentage. He's the oldest of his father's children and the second oldest of his mother's. In total, he has seven siblings.

He lives with his grandparents in Costa Mesa. Under the same roof are his mother, Lilia, 36; his twin 13-year-old sisters, Felicia and Tayla; and his youngest half-siblings, brothers Garry, 6, and Marlee, 4. His older half-sister, Cassandra Serrano, 20, recently moved out.

But that's not all that's complicated about Crenshaw's family life. In 2010, Lilia was diagnosed with brain cancer. Surgery to remove a tumor from her brain has left her in a constant state of recovery.

And, as a result, Crenshaw has been in a constant state of mini-adulthood, helping to raise Garry and Marlee.

“She wasn't able to speak,” says Crenshaw, recalling the day after his mother's surgery. “She wasn't able to get out of bed. It's weird seeing a person that was so energetic and alive before just … there. She would look at me and I could tell she'd want to say something. But she couldn't. That's always in my head.”

Crenshaw says that his mother's speech is not completely back to normal. She struggles to fight off migraines. Her left hand shakes without her asking it to.

He often takes her on walks to pick up Garry and Marlee from school. She gets tired faster than she once did, but she is able to make the short journey. Crenshaw often comes home and helps bathe his younger brothers, so Lilia can rest.

“I'm not helping her. If anything, she's helping me,” Crenshaw says. “She tells me to worry about myself. I try to do that. Someone that strong, it gives you a push to do better.”

Garry stars on the flag football team coached by his older brother. Cassandra, who represents a motherly figure to the youngest boys, says that in Garry and Marlee's eyes, Junior can do no wrong.

“They adore him,” Cassandra says. “They want to be just like him.”

Garry disregarded the “love scale” of 1 to 100 when addressing his older brother.

Hmmm … I love him 1,000.”

Crenshaw adores his brothers equally, if not more, which explains the hint of anger in his voice when addressing their father.

“I want to do as much as I can so that when they get older, they don't have to look up to someone (who) was never there. They have me. Their dad doesn't care about them, but we love them so much.”

In less than a year, Crenshaw's presence in his brothers' lives, at least physically, could shift. His football skill has drawn the eyes of several out-of-state college football programs, including Boise State and Utah.

Crenshaw has a vision of his younger brothers, walking up the bleachers to their assigned seats as they prepare to see him play college football live for the first time.

Heading into his senior season, Crenshaw is the team's premier halfback and one of its toughest linebackers. He stands 6-foot-1 and weighs 200 pounds. He's considered more of a power back than a breakaway sprinter.

His edge in football – as with his family – is tenacity.

“I compete. I might not be the fastest guy out there. I know that. I might not be the best athletically and with footwork. But with every aspect of my game, I will work harder than the guy that's next to me.”

Both Boise State and Utah have invited Crenshaw to a preseason football camp in June, where players will have the opportunity to stay in the on-campus dorms for a week.

It's an experience that Crenshaw dreads enjoying.

“The only way I can go to college is on scholarship,” he says. “My parents can't afford to send me.”

But he also knows that moving away for college might mean leaving his family.

“It would be hard. I'd feel lost.”

Crenshaw and his father, who lives in Utah, talk regularly about the younger Oronde's possible relocation.

“It's something he's worried about,” Crenshaw Sr. says. “He worries about his mom and his brothers. I tell him, ‘There comes a time where you have to do for yourself. Then you can help others.'

“It's not about leaving his mom behind.”

Crenshaw can't seem to escape that notion.

“I try to spend as much time with her as I can, but I have so much that I have to do to try to get to college. I don't want anything to happen to her before I get there. I don't want to feel like I didn't have enough time.”

Last season, Crenshaw's mother made it to two of his games. She has told him that this season, she will make every game.

Crenshaw would trade that for the chance to see his mom arrive at one of his college games.

“It would be a dream. To have her there and let her know I did it.”

After his mother's surgery, doctors informed his family that her life expectancy is around seven years.

Crenshaw has a noticeable tendency.

When he talks about football, he looks you in the eye. He uses his hands to gesture. He speaks quickly.

When it comes to family, everything shifts. He looks away. He chooses his words wisely. He locks his fingers together.

“Me playing in college, it would be good for my whole family.”

Crenshaw daily considers his mother's health, as well as the role he plays in the lives of his brothers. However, his worry is often drowned out by his mother's encouragement.

“She says wherever I'll go, she'll go.”

Crenshaw is strongly considering Utah, so he can be closer to his father.

“I'll make it to his games, whether they're in Florida or Alaska,” Crenshaw Sr. says. “As a family, we'll get through it.”

Crenshaw Sr. then reveals that he, too, would follow his son to college. He would file to transfer within his company.

Joining Crenshaw's mother would be his twin sisters and of course, Garry and Marlee.

The only person that can put a halt to Crenshaw's college aspirations is himself.

“I want my brothers to be able to look up to me. I hope I can make it.”

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